Junie lures her live-in lover Michael into the spare bedroom, where she traps and tortures him with a variety of new sex toys–a paddle, a riding crop and a butt plug. After she releases him, they make passionate love. This lighthearted, 2,000-word erotic short story contains graphic M/F sex, mild BDSM, anal play and lots of male humiliation. Also included is a 2,000-word bonus short story.
My six-foot-two frame was stretched out as I bent over, on my toes and my bare ass pointing up. Junie grabbed my legs, using leverage to tip me inside. She’s amazingly strong for such a small package. I slid face-down into the chest and braced myself with both hands on an assortment of junk. My face rested against what appeared to be a Barbie doll. It was dark, so I wasn’t sure. I hoped it wasn’t a Ken doll.
Junie’s hand held my back down, applying gentle pressure. I was pinned. Without a display of brute force, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“What are you doing?” My voice was muffled by the array of junk. I thought it was a reasonable question.
“Sorry, darling, but it can’t be helped. Justice must be served. And you’re the only one available.”
“Only one what?”
I let that go. I heard her open a bureau drawer and pull something out.
SMACK. She had whacked me on my bare ass with what felt like a paddle.
“That’s for thirty-five centuries of male oppression.”
I struggled to pull out—or at least get off my toes and put my feet flat on the floor. It wasn’t going to happen. Junie had her arm around my waist. I felt the coolness of the paddle as she ran it across my bare cheeks.
“Do I get a whack for each century?”
“One for each year if you’re not more respectful.”
SMACK. My other ass cheek. Hard. But not too hard. Just enough to reawaken my cock.
“And that was for … ?”
SMACK. “Ow!” That one was really hard.
And, now, so was I. My dick strained against the cedar chest. If I could free a hand, I’d stroke it. Fat chance. A reach-around by my darling girlfriend was my only hope.
“That one was for menstruation.”
She had me there. What did that have to do with male oppression?
“Okay, could you run that one by me?” She ignored me.
“This is for the cramps.”
“And these are for the bleeding.”
“Junie, you’re not making sense.”
I felt her lean forward into the chest.
“If men menstruated, it would be a sacrament, celebrated in word and song. There would feasts and festivals. A monument on the Mall. And multiple cable channels, just like golf and college football.”
“And all you get is PMS?” Wrong thing to say.
“Michael, I expect better than that.”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“I’m the sacrificial lamb and you want sympathy?”
“Darling, things just worked out this way,” she purred. “Don’t take it personally.”
I could feel the heat radiating off my bruised ass cheeks. And then the gentle caress of her hand. Ahh.
“Poor boy. How’s it feel to be oppressed, poor boy?”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
I heard her put the paddle, or whatever it was, down. Her foot pushed my feet apart, separating my legs. She slid a hand down my ass, between my legs and caressed my ball sack. She cupped my fragile, exposed testicles as if weighing them, like maybe she was sizing up, I don’t know, kumquats, in the market. Felt nice.
She ran her hand, very slowly, up my ass crack. Delicious. I shifted my weight from foot to foot to accommodate.
Junie leaned into the chest. “Doing okay?”
“Better. I was just about to start cunnilingus on Barbie here.”
“Oh, Michael, why do you make it worse?” She sounded genuinely sad. “Just as I was about to show you some mercy.”
I heard her rummage around in that drawer again. She separated my legs more, grabbed my hard dick and pulled it down so that it pointed at the floor. I had to get even higher on my toes.
SWISH. A hot stinging sensation on my balls and cock head.
“Ow!” A riding crop?
And again, not as hard. She gently flicked whatever it was against my genitals, playing the strands against my cock and balls, now tight against my dick. It tingled.
Next, she separated my ass cheeks right at the a-hole. Uh oh.
SWISH. A sharp, short jolt of electricity ran from my anus to my balls and dick. It both hurt and felt wonderful at the same time.
“Junie, what the fuck …”
“Oh, I’ve got a whole arsenal of doodads,” she chirped. “You just stay as you are.”
Junie leaned in close again: “Still doing okay?”
“Just Barbie and me.”
SMACK. Right on the ass. Her hand, I think.
I wriggled my behind. “Do the riding crop or whatever on my dick.”
Leaning in: “When you’re being punished, you don’t get to choose.”
Junie stepped away. Couldn’t hear anything. Hmm.
Her hands went to my ass, which had to be red and probably bruised. Her palms and fingertips glided over my smooth, hot cheeks.
Stepping in closer, Junie leaned her warm, soft body against me. She had undressed. I could feel her soft pubic hair as she churned her groin on my hip. Spreading her legs, she rode my thigh. Wet.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“Michael, we’re going to visit a final transgression by men against women. This won’t be pleasant.”
I felt something cold and wet on my asshole. It dribbled down my crack to my balls. Lube? Maple syrup? Forty weight motor oil?
Lube. Her finger rimmed my taint, spreading the slickness around. Working it in.
“Michael, do you remember when we drove to Martha’s Vineyard last summer?”
Do I. We averaged making love two point five times a day that week. A record.
“And you wouldn’t let me drive? And you got lost? For three hours? And you wouldn’t ask for directions?”
Damn. I knew I should’ve bought that GPS.
“Michael, I’ve been with numerous men, known them intimately. Slept with them, sucked their cocks, let them fuck my tits and eat my pussy.” She leaned in close. “You’re the best. By far. You’re the keeper.” Pulling back, Junie resumed massaging my asshole.
“But I’ve never been with a man who would ask for directions. Ever. Not fair.”
I felt something different on my asshole. Cold. Maybe steel or glass. She held it there and then started to apply pressure. Moved it around. Felt blunt. More pressure right on ground zero. Junie slid it in slowly. Then all the way. It burned at first, then subsided.
A butt plug. This was new. I’m a virgin, you know. Or was. I felt completely helpless, draped over the cedar chest, arms buried in my girlfriend’s junk, with this object inserted into my rectum. The weight of the thing pulled down against my asshole.
“Grip it, darling. You don’t want to know what happens if it falls out….”
Word count: 4,030
Get the deal: Making Michael Obey, a five-story compilation of Michael and Junie’s WTF sex (including this one): $3.99.
Word count: 12,000